The washing machine that is. It’s dead, technically it’s not buried quite yet, but it will be soon! Buried in a pile of other scrap metal. That’s what it gets for pooping out on us in the middle of the craziest time of our lives. No respect. And it was so dang noisy it seriously interfered with my television viewing. I had an outline of a plan to make it dead and buried soon anyway but it didn’t have the decency to let me finalize the details.
Soooo instead of dragging three little ones to the washateria last Saturday to do 2 weeks worth of laundry, spend at least $25 to do the 50,000 loads simultaneously and risk letting my kids have too much fun in the rolling laundry carts (translated: risk pulling out the little hair I have left on my scalp from the postpartum shed fest), I went to my mom and dad’s. I did it one load at a time and it took 8 hours but I was comfortable, the two babies had a nap, the two boys got a bath, I got a free breakfast and lunch out of the deal, two more adults to help watch the kids and Grannie even took Jimmy and Emma and Daniel to a local Fall Festival. I win.
They got to jump in a bounce house. Pet some goats and see a tiny piglet. And Jimmy got to ride his first big boy ride ever. Grannie snapped some good pictures and said she cried watching him because he looked like such a big boy sitting in the little airplane. He wasn’t scared one little bit. Act-u-a-lly, (his favorite word now) if he’d had the time he probably would have done the pre-flight maintenance himself!
And here are a couple of pictures of Lilly from the weekend she spent at Grannie & Grandpa’s.
The washer will pay. It will pay dearly. Well, okay, so we’ll probably only make a couple of $$ off the scrap metal BUT we’ll wring every last cent out of it. And the kids loooove going to Grannie & Grandpa’s so in the end The Scoreboard reads
Frazzled Mamma: 1
Washer: dead to me